


For the longest time

by lazyboo



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyboo/pseuds/lazyboo
Summary: Delia's perspective on the events in the finale, and what happened afterwards.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was struck so hard by Delia's sadness and pain this season that it really wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> So canon is not my strength, and I've never written Delia before. Hope I've managed to do her justice.

Delia Busby felt like a terrible person. It was the day of her friend’s wedding - her good friend, in fact - yet it was almost impossible to be happy for her. Inconceivable that she could celebrate the blissful union of two people when her own heart was rent asunder.

The carousel and the lights and the excited voices in the chill winter air were all just too much. Too painful. So Delia demurred, eschewed the carousel to pace moodily around the periphery of Barbara and Tom’s celebrations. At least in the dim light she could mask her expression a little easier. Could avoid the curiosity and reprobation.

Delia wasn't sure how much longer she could survive like this.

The days apart, barely tolerable, had stretched into weeks. The weeks into fortnights. The long, dark fortnights into months. And now each breath was a struggle. Every heartbeat reverberated with the pulse of absence. Of anguish. Of deprivation.

The days were bearable. Her time on the maternity ward and her studies kept her rational brain occupied, allowed her mind to remain on an even keel. When she focused all her attention on a patient, on new techniques and new skills, she could push the pain into the background. Could even be pleased when she had a success with a new mother, or surprised one of the doctors with her knowledge.

Evenings, however…. Evenings were an exercise in subterfuge and heartache. Having to pretend that she missed Patsy only as much as any good friend did. To hide the increasingly dark circles under her eyes that were the product of sleepless, tear filled nights sobbing silently into her pillow. Worse, to have to engage in Barbara's wedding preparations and to pretend that the very thought didn't cause jagged shards to pierce her heart. Coloured with yearning and not a little bit of envy.

That made her feel worse, because what sort of person couldn't be happy for their friend?

Delia’s heart was an agonised tangle of guilt and loneliness and hurt and anger and longing and trying to contain it all made her head spin.

And there was literally no one she could turn to, no one who understood. Phyllis had been supportive in her stern and undemonstrative way, checking in when Delia’s mask slipped. When yet another post was delivered without the telltale red and blue stripes of an airmail dispatch. She’d read her way through Phyllis’s surprisingly romantic collection of poetry, Spanish and otherwise, had sipped countless cups of Bournevita while Phyllis gazed at her in silent sympathy.

For all that Phyllis offered support, she couldn’t understand. Couldn’t empathise. And didn’t approve of emotional excess so Delia had to contain it. Had to hold it in.

Some days she just wanted to be held, needed human contact so badly that her throat burned and every muscle felt stretched to breaking point.

One night, a few days before the wedding, she’d been unable to stand the confines of Nonnatus House for a moment longer. Incapable of listening to Barbara fretting over dresses and flowers and still keep the smile on her face. She’d thrown on a coat, headed into the frigid night air. Found her steps tracing a path to the only place in London that held the promise of belonging. Women who could understand the pain that Delia couldn’t let go.

She’d thought it would help, going to Gateways. Being surrounded by women like her. But the club reminded her inescapably of times spent in Patsy’s arms, dancing and carefree and joyful and Delia had to bite down on the agonised gasp. Blink back the sheen of moisture in her eyes and make her way to the bar.

The bartender had raised her eyebrows as Delia gulped down the first glass of wine, winced as it irritated her throat. Then she’d asked about Patsy and why they hadn’t been around for a while, and Delia had been incapable of suppressing her reaction.

She barely started the second glass when the words spilled out of her.

“I say to myself sometimes ‘Deels, you know who you are, nobody else does.’ That doesn’t matter, it’s probably just as well. But someone knew who I was once. But it’s as if she’s vanished. And because I can’t reach her... I’ve just disappeared.”

The bartender had squeezed Delia’s hand. In solidarity, but the feel of someone else merely exacerbated Delia’s craving for Patsy. She’d contained her tears by the barest margin, gulped down the rest of her glass before seeking the respite of cold and empty streets.

The morning of Barbara’s wedding marked the fifth week without word from Hong Kong. She’d been roused early by Trixie, the blonde nurse issuing directives left and right. Delia took a deep breath - plastered on a smile that she hoped would last the rest of the day. And thankfully it had only slipped once or twice.

It was a relief now, to be in the shadows. To let the smile slide away into the dark corners of the street where it belonged. It certainly had no business being anywhere near Delia.

She prowled the perimeter of the festivities, weaving in and out of the carousel light. Watched the residents of Nonnatus and the surrounding streets as they smiled and waved and exclaimed in delight. Felt like a ghost as she glided between gleeful families, contented lovers, cheerful nuns.

Blue eyes, gritty and irritated by the ordeal of the day, wandered restlessly. Cataloguing the jubilation that broke around her like waves, but was denied to her.

A casual glance down the road, and her gaze was arrested by a familiar figure. A flash of red hair, the tilt of the head - both shockingly recognisable and foreign all at once.

Delia felt her stomach swoop - her heart thud to a halt for a long, pained moment before resuming in a rapid tattoo. Had to blink back the shimmer of tears that made her vision blur.

The figure down the road came into sudden focus. Lifted a hand in a wave.

And suddenly Delia gasped for breath, chest heaving with the effort of capturing and retaining oxygen. Forced herself to stop and slow her breathing. Concentrated on inhaling and exhaling and made sure she had control of herself.

Because she felt like she was about to explode with the sudden release of tension, with the confluence of anger and hurt and relief and desire and abandonment. Emotions that had been repressed for so long, held in check, and now the dam had burst.

There might have been a carousel behind her but the sensation inside more closely resembled a roller coaster. Each emotion rolling and surfacing and causing her stomach to churn, the blood to rush to her head.

It was the fury and resentment and the hurt that won out as she strode under the bridge. Maintained a measured pace to avoid the notice of people behind her. Couldn’t even bring herself to glance at the redhead standing there in the very same spot that Delia has waited all those months ago. Years. The memory only fuelled her anger, because Patsy knew what it felt like to be left behind.

The redhead looked tired and dishevelled, her shirt unbuttoned and the hems of her trousers uneven. Her face gaunt and drawn.

In her peripheral vision Delia saw the redhead hurriedly set down her case, withdraw her hand from her coat pocket.

The same hand that Delia clasped a second later. No words, just a firm grip and a tug that Patsy followed. Delia wanted to savour that first touch. To relish the fact that Patsy was real and here and the uncertainty was over. It wasn’t.

They stood in the glow from the streetlight, snowflakes settling quietly around them. Dampening the noise from the celebration behind her. Delia saw the shadows in Patsy’s blue eyes, the new faint lines tracing her mouth. Felt her heart clench in empathy as Patsy finally met her gaze.

“I got on the boat the day after his funeral.” Apologetic, in the absence of an actual apology.

“I didn't know.” A pause. “I didn't know you were coming back.” Delia wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her voice steady. How the sounds made it through the tightness in her throat.

“I did. I always did.” The certainty in Patsy’s voice relaxed the constriction in her chest a fraction. “And wherever I go next…” A pause. “You're coming with me.”

Then Patsy’s hand was grasping the lapel of Delia’s coat, tugging her forward. And Patsy kissed her right there in the street. At the end of the bridge. Under the street lamp.

One hand rose to Patsy’s jaw, her thumb stroking the soft skin next to the redhead’s ear. The other found Patsy’s hip, gripping through her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric. Delia felt a hand on her shoulder blade, was conscious of Patsy’s arm winding awkwardly around Delia’s shoulders. Out of practice.

For a brief, heart wrenching moment Delia allowed herself to hope. To feel the thread of their connection - dimmed with time and distance, but still tangible. Before they broke the kiss, painfully aware that someone could glance down the road at any moment. Clasped forearms, then hands, allowed their fingers to slide gently apart.

Delia bit her lip as they stared at each other. A smile - the first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks - curved her lips. Cleared some of the darkness away from her heart.

They turned as one, strolled slowly under the bridge towards the carousel. Paused as Delia picked up Patsy’s case.

“You missed Barbara’s wedding today.”

“What?”

“That’s what the carousel is for.”

“I had wondered.” A pause. “I didn’t really think it was for me.”

They chuckled, and the darkness lifted just a little more.

An excited exclamation sounded almost as soon as they broached the carousel’s light.

“Patsy!” A petite blonde figure broke loose from the festivities, came barrelling towards them as fast as her heels would allow. Drawing all gazes in her wake. “Patsy, you’re finally back!”

Delia stepped aside as Trixie threw her arms around Patsy’s neck, hugged her excitedly. And a pang of envy stirred the resentment that still curled in her belly. They were instantly surrounded by a gaggle of people as the residents of Nonnatus flocked around the tall redhead, a flurry of hugs and smiles and handshakes and enthusiastic greetings.

Delia swallowed down the acid on the back of her tongue. Stepped backwards out of the way. Startled when a hand clasped her shoulder gently.

“Oh Phyllis.”

The older woman looked at her intently for a long moment. Sympathy etched into her features alongside the lines of experience.

“It might take some time, but you’ll be happy again. It will be alright.”

“I hope you’re right. It doesn’t feel that way.”

“Give it time, Delia. The human heart is remarkably resilient. I have every faith that yours will recover.” A pause. “They both will.”

Time passed quickly that evening, but Delia couldn’t have given a reckoning of the events that occurred. Conscious only of her proximity to Patsy, of the careful distance they were obliged to maintain. She could see that it chafed on Patsy too, caught the frustrated sighs when their conversations were interrupted yet again. Not that they could talk about anything of significance.

Later in the evening, much later, when Patsy was visibly wilting, Sister Julienne approached them.

“Nurse Mount, can I assume that you wish to take up your duties at Nonnatus House again?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it yet, Sister Julienne. My only focus has been getting home.”

“The very fact that you consider Nonnatus House to be your home reveals quite a lot.” A pause. “I can see that you’re tired Nurse Mount. Nurse Crane has offered, if you’re both agreeable, to trade rooms temporarily with Nurse Busby. She suggested that it might be nice for you to have the opportunity to catch up, and that it will be less disturbance for her without Nurse Mount needing to come and go from the room.”

Patsy’s puzzled frown elicited a fond smile from Sister Julienne.

“The room you shared with Nurse Franklin was taken up by Nurse Dyer in your absence. And with Nurse Gilbert now married and moving into Mr Hereward’s residence, her bed is the only space available.”

Delia looked up, caught Phyllis’s encouraging nod.

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea Sister Julienne. Don’t you Pats?”

“What? Yes. Yes I suppose so.”

It was hardly an enthusiastic acceptance. Delia could read the fatigue, the confusion and exhaustion in Patsy’s face. Took a breath and suppressed the flash of irritation.

“Come on then Pats, I think it’s time you got to bed. You look asleep on your feet.”

It took only a few moments to collect enough of her belongings and clothes to last a night or two. Ducked into Phyllis’s room to see Patsy sprawled out on Barbara’s bed, Phyllis packing a few items into an overnight bag.

“We shall see how this arrangement works. I’ve a mind to make it a permanent change, but I thought it was best to broach it as a temporary measure for now.”

“Thank you Phyllis.”

“No need to thank me Delia. You just promise me you’ll be circumspect. Understood?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Phyllis smiled, kind. “Now I shall leave you two to catch up. Nurse Mount, I do look forward to hearing about Hong Kong when you’re feeling rested. I’ve always been interested in seeing the Orient.” A pause. “Goodnight then girls.”

The snick of the latch echoed loudly through the room as Phyllis pulled the door closed behind herself. Ratcheted the sudden tension in the room up by several notches.

“Delia… What on earth was that all about?”

“She’s never said it explicitly, but I’m almost certain that Phyllis knows.”

“About us?” Horrified. “How could you?”

“What? How could I?” The ball of resentment and indignation in Delia’s belly flared white hot. “How could I? How dare you come in here blaming me for anything. You just abandoned me without the courtesy of so much as a postcard, and you come in here accusing me?”

“Deels…”

“No, you don’t get to do that Patsy. You don’t get to waltz back in and just start making accusations. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Delia please…”

“I never said a word Patsy. The whole time you were gone I’ve never said one word to anyone. I’ve had to sit silent while everyone found their happiness around me, and it felt like mine was slipping away.” Delia wiped angrily at the tears that threatened to distort her vision.

“Oh Delia…”

“I just want to know why, Pats. Why did you think it was a good idea to leave me without hope? All you needed to do was write one line on a postcard and you could have spared me so much heartache.”

“I’m sorry.” Barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry Deels.”

“You know what makes it worse, Pats? You know what it feels like. You know exactly how it feels to be abandoned. The difference is, I was writing. I was trying to reach you.” A pause. “Nobody prevented you.”

Desperate for something to do with her hands, Delia started tugging the kirby grips out of her bun, heedless of the snags. Ripped the earrings from her ears, threw them onto the mantle.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking particularly clearly. My father… his last days were not peaceful.”

Delia wasn’t sure how she could possibly contain all the emotions inside her. Knew that her hurt was exacerbating her anger, but her heart clenched at the waver in Patsy’s voice.

Her arms ached at the need to just hold Patsy. And be held.

“Pats… put your pyjamas on. I’m going to do the same. Then we’re going to lie down together and sleep.”

“Deels…” Blue met blue in an unspoken plea.

“Tonight, I need to feel you. There’s time enough for the rest tomorrow.”

They changed in silence. Efficient. Delia kept her eyes averted, but couldn’t help noticing the concavity in Patsy’s abdomen. The sharp ridges of her collarbones more defined than she’d ever seen.

Patsy climbed into the bed, her face pale even against the white linen.

“Oh cariad. You look so exhausted.”

“I’ve never felt more fatigued in my life.”

Delia fussed with her clothes for a moment, folding them carefully onto a chair before pulling the covers back on the second bed.

“Deels, aren’t you getting in with me?” Choked.

“Of course I am. I’m just getting things ready.”

Satisfied that she’d be able to move quickly into the other bed should the need arise, Delia switched off the lamp.

Finally, finally slipped in beside Patsy.

Long arms reached out, grabbed a fistful of her pyjamas. Tugged until their bodies were flush. Held on until the covers were settled, until they were breathing the same air.

The tightness in Delia’s chest relaxed gradually. The burning in her throat abated as Patsy’s arms wrapped around her waist. The pounding in her head calming to the beat of Patsy’s heart.

“Oh god. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

“I meant what I said Delia. Whatever happens from now on, we’re facing it together.”

“Don’t you let me down Patience Mount.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

The light of the carousel outside reflected onto the ceiling, illuminating the room in a soft glow. They clung to each other fiercely, overcoming the time and the distance between them. Delia watched Patsy’s eyes droop closed, held on as the tension leached from the long body in her arms. Placed a soft kiss on Patsy’s lips.

“I love you Pats.”

“Love you.” It was mumbled. Indistinct. But it was there. And at last, Delia allowed herself to think about the future. And hope.


End file.
